


Archery Practice

by redhonedge



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 08:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7259917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhonedge/pseuds/redhonedge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>mccree is admiring that handsome samurai honing his skills. probably for the hundredth time in the last couple of weeks.<br/>things go from simple archery practice, to getting kinda deep, to your classic case of smutting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Archery Practice

His tongue was thick in his mouth, the smoky flavor of his cigar turning bitter as it dwindled closer and closer to his lips. If he kept going as he was, with his lack of attention to it, his tongue would be smattered with the burnt wrapping and lingering ash. Perhaps even singe the edges of his beard if it burned down enough.  
It would save him having to trim it later; he would deal with it when the time arrived.  
His _drooling_ , more likely than not, would extinguish the burning tip long before it could ever do _any_ harm.  
  
Hanzo had been at it for _hours_ , a warrior who was diligent to his trade.  
From practicing with his bow, to slicing apart dummies faster than McCree’s eye could properly track, the expansive field was filled with the fruits of his labor.  
If one were to consider it _fruitful_ to have to play clean-up, lest they wanted a wandering animal to poke their eye out or try eating bits of leftover dummy.  
But, _hey_.  
Maybe old straw and weathered cotton was good for the digestive tract.

Legs swinging as he watched from his hiding place (if one could consider the overlooking hill with no cover whatsoever a place of hiding; he honestly _wanted_ to be spotted), he watched Hanzo dip down to collect arrows and replace them in his quiver.  
McCree dragged his eyes from the sweat glistening on Hanzo’s exposed skin to his weapon of choice. He had seen plenty of weaponry in his day, ranging from the mundane to the scientifically complex, but not _once_ had he seen such fancy arrows.  
Arrows, something he and the other boys of his dusty town used to make out of jagged rocks and broken tree branches cleaved into thinner pieces.  
  
How his younger self would have been awed by the handiwork of these arrows. More likely than not, the blabbermouth kid he had been, he would’ve been tripping over Hanzo’s heels asking him every question that came to mind.  
  
“I must recommend that you shut your mouth. The grass will catch flame if you let your cigar fall.”  
  
Teeth clicking harshly together, nose crinkling in disgust as he subsequently chomped into his cigar, he spat it out onto the ground and stamped it into nothing.  
Any lingering embers were introduced to the heel of his boot until it was nothing but green grass and sunshine once more.  
  
“See? No problem at all!” McCree grinned, all teeth and clenched jaw, and Hanzo squinted at him until dismissing him with a heavy roll of his eyes.  
“Mm.”  
  
McCree had failed to notice the decreasing gap between them. What had once been a comfortable distance of him having to squint just slightly to get a good look at Hanzo was now diminished to a couple of yards, probably cut down during his spacing out. He could throw a stone and have it hit square in between Hanzo’s shoulders with a fairly low rate of failure with how close he was.  
McCree’s eyes dipped down to eyeball the rocks littered about his feet, ranging from tiny pebbles to sizable rocks that would fit nicely in the palm of his hand.  
Interesting.  
  
“You have been watching me for some time now. Is it because you wish to learn the traditional way of the warrior?” Hanzo made a point of looking over McCree’s attire, from the leather chaps to the pistols in their holsters.  
The robotic prosthesis was ignored, McCree easily noting how Hanzo’s eyes skipped and jumped over it and went back to the rest of his outfit.  
_Interesting_.

“ _Yeeeeep_ , been real fascinated by your handiwork, Mr. Samurai---“  
“Hanzo.”  
McCree’s teeth flashed again in a grin as feral as he looked.  
“Hanzo.”  
  
He waltzed over, his gait slow and methodical, and Hanzo’s back somehow went even straighter than it already was. Maybe he was trying to make up for the couple of inches lost between them.  
The hat shading him from the two o’clock sun didn’t do any favors in shaving off any extra height in Hanzo’s favor.  
“Seen lots of fancy weapons, lots of superb killin’ machines, but—may I?”  
  
McCree paused in reaching out to the arrow Hanzo clasped in his hand, eye brows raising in polite inquisition. After a moment of internal debate, Hanzo’s fingers uncurled, and McCree gently plucked the fine device from them.  
He made a note of how well-maintained his hands were. Fingernails trimmed, no dirt underneath even with all of this training. Scarring was minimal. Part of that gorgeous tattoo sweeping up his arm and bicep could be seen on the back of his wrist.  
  
“Never seen me an arrow that isn’t jus’ carved rock and a bit of tree branch. Hell, as a kid we’d have to pluck chicken feathers for the end of it,” McCree laughed, eyes crinkling at the pleasant memory as he rotated the arrow in his palm.  
It was surprisingly lightweight, having anticipated it to weigh as heavy in his palm as the rocks he had been looking at earlier. The only part of it that was somewhat weighted was the arrow head, running gloved fingertips over it.  
The arrowhead glowed faintly and he whistled  in appreciation.  
  
“Good stuff you got here,” McCree determined, and offered the arrow back. Hanzo, face always a stern mask, relented nothing as he accepted the arrow and replaced it in his quiver.  
“Thank you.” The answer was short and crisp, but certainly was no deterrent to McCree. This guy seemed like one of those _few words_ types.  
Said little, but it always had a good punch.  
Well, except this time.  
‘Thank you’ wasn’t really much to work with, but he’d made magic happen with even less.

“Where’d you get ‘em?”  
“Why are you here? You have been watching me for hours.”  
  
_Oooh_ , **caught**.  
  
“Admirin’ your work, o’course!”  
_Saved_.  
“I may be one man, but I got a _lot_ of work t’ do. You should know this. We’re on the same team, yeah?” McCree reached out and playfully shoved at Hanzo’s shoulder. The somewhat insulted look he received didn’t seem to be very agreeable to what he was saying, and the warrior slowly reached up to brush off the imaginary dirt off of his shoulder.  
“Mm, yes… Same team.”  
  
McCree awkwardly cleared his throat.  
Bad move.  
  
Lapsing into heavy, uncomfortable silence, their gazes drifted apart, McCree floundering for _some_ method of rekindling the conversation. His eyes trailed from Hanzo’s quiver, to the impressive bow resting against a tree, and then to the wood and straw targets that he had mounted along the hills and trees.  
And then it struck him.  
  
“Teach me how t’ shoot a bow like you!”  
The look of shock on Hanzo’s face was _entirely_ worth it, McCree returning to a state of overexcitement. Were he able to see himself, he’d instantly think he was a kid again.  
“You’re an AMAZIN’ marksman. I ain’t gonna steal your thing,” He preferred his guns much over more rudimentary weaponry, “But practice is practice. Maybe it’ll improve my aim, eh?”  
He winked, and Hanzo looked away.  
Was that an embarrassed _flush_ he saw?  
  
McCree dug in deeper.  
“I’d be in your debt. In a way, I guess. Nothin’ serious, but y’know, if you got a favor you’d like fulfilled, I’ll be your man.” Any excuse to see him again. “Please? I’ll be on best behavior!”  
Puppy dog eyes kicked in, and when Hanzo looked back, McCree was all pouty lips and pleading eyes.  
The warrior’s eyes just about rolled into the back of his head.  
  
“ _Fine_. I shall… _Permit you_ to train with me. Only for a short time. But bear in mind that the bow is a _highly_ _difficult_ thing to learn, it is not---“  
“Woo!”  
Fistpumping into the air, McCree’s celebration was cut short with a stern glare.  
  
“… Let us _begin_ , then.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
It had all seemed like a fine and dandy idea at the time.  
Ask to be taught how to use a bow, play archer for a little bit. Goof off like the kid he had once been and even manage to get closer to the handsome samurai.  
Now he was just sweaty and worn out on the ground, wondering when sweet, blissful _death_ would overcome.  
  
“Again.”  
“I don’t think this was what I was thinkin’ about when suggestin’ _archery_ , darlin’. ”  
Stretched out on the ground, he had ripped off the armor on his chest in a futile effort to _cool down_.  
The once warm and gentle summer sun was scorching tanned skin, and with a pitiful whine he rolled over and curled into himself.  
  
“I didn’t ask t’ be tortured. Jus’ t’ shoot a couple of arrows and call it good.”  
He was on his stomach now, sighing with bliss at the sensation of cool grass on his skin.  
  
“You had requested to be taught to be like myself. And taught you, I have.” Hanzo slowly walked to where McCree lay on the ground, a _child_ defiant of his father.  
Frowning down at him, he didn’t receive the reaction he desired from his scolding look as McCree sighed in bliss.  
“Ah, keep standin’ right there, this shade’s _amazin’_ \---“  
It was an instantaneous, spiteful reaction to step aside, and McCree _hissed_ and covered his eyes.  
  
“Do you desire to know my methods?”  
  
McCree, looking out from underneath the shield of his palm, locked eyes with Hanzo, slowly beginning to _grin_.  
  
“… Actually, I can think of something that’ll work jus’ _fine_.”  
  


  
“This is not my idea of proper training.”  
  
Hanzo’s voice wavered on _uncertain_ (the proud warrior, _UNCERTAIN?_ ) as McCree guided his hands, thankful that his grinning visage wasn’t able to be seen.  
Ah, it felt so much nicer to be within these strong arms rather than admiring them from afar.  
  
“Trust me, this is the best way.”  
For _him_ , at least.  
  
Hanzo’s fingers were warm and despite the lack of confidence in his voice, the hands guiding McCree’s around his bow were exceptionally skilled.  
There was no falter as muscle memory kicked in, rearranging McCree’s hands to properly hold the bow, correcting splayed fingers.  
The only time he hesitated was with his mechanical arm, his fingers ghosting over it tentatively before resuming his work.  
  
“Relax your shoulders. Focus on your target. No, don’t put your hand there---“  
Basking in the attention, McCree felt his chest tighten when feeling Hanzo’s bump against his back. He swore he could feel the other man’s heart beat thrumming against the bare skin of his shoulders.  
“That’s it. You have it.”  
The praise was the first positive thing he had heard out of Hanzo’s mouth since he had met him what felt like so long ago, and McCree ignored the undeniable heat that rose to his face.  
  
“… Thanks.”  
  
“Let your muscles relax,” Hanzo hummed in his ear, seemingly gaining the confidence he lacked before. He was in his element, and McCree was in admiring _awe_ , hardly looking at the target they had chosen and fixating instead on Hanzo’s fluid movements.  
His hands guided McCree’s, flowing through the motions he had done time and time again. For a moment, McCree felt _unworthy_ of such a beauty teaching him, but it all melted away as Hanzo’s low voice spoke into his ear once again.  
  
“And--- _there_.”  
  
 The arrow went _soaring_ , and plunged into the direct middle of the target.  
It had all gone by so fast that McCree was left gawking, ignorant to the satisfied smirk of Hanzo at his left.  
“You did not do much, but perhaps we can---“  
“Again!”  
  
All bright eyes and childish excitement, Hanzo was startled by McCree’s sheer joy over what had just occurred.  
“That was great! This time I’ll do more!”  
  
Hanzo found himself smiling at finding such an eager student.  


  
Sundown found them both sweaty and tired, multiple arrows stuck in each one of the set of five targets they had chosen for practice.  
The ones Hanzo shot at all had perfect bull’s eyes.  
The ones McCree was allowed to do alone ranged from being off in the brush to _nearly_ striking dead-center.  
Overall, he would say he wasn’t too shabby.  
  
“We’ll have t’ do this again.”  
“Again?”  
McCree wiped the sweat from his brow, fanning himself with his hat with his other hand. It was cool with the shade of the trees growing longer with the sun so low, but his skin was still burning hot.  
“O’course. I’m gonna be learnin’ to be a proper marksman such as yourself, which means lots of practice. We make a good team if I do say so myself… Teacher.”  
  
He winked, and Hanzo turned his head away, pursing his lips and tapping his fingertips against his knee.  
“Mhm.”  
  
Ah, and they were back to the silent treatment.  
This guy was certainly odd.  
  
Admiring his brooding look in the setting sun, McCree rolled his shoulders, stretching his muscles.  
“The entire time, you were starin’ pret—ty hard at my arm. And not the one that’s still pumpin’ blood.”  
Hanzo’s face practically _erupted_ into red, and he jerked up, mouth gaping open in a partially formed apology.  
It burnt out when McCree raised a hand to silence him.  
  
“Don’t worry ’bout it. People look all th’ time, it aint hurtin’ me none. And besides, it looks like you have your own troubles.”  
He nodded to Hanzo’s prosthetic legs, crossed over one another in a proper sitting position.  
“Got a nice pair there. Real good work. I’ll admit, I was lookin’ too.” A harsh grin had melted into a softer smile.  
It was fitting in the gentle glow of dissipating sunlight.  
  
Rocking up onto his knees, he waddled up to Hanzo, plopping himself back down next to the other.  
“S’all good if you wanna take a look. I like bein’ admired, ‘specially by cute things like you.” Another wink, and he extended the arm, offering it to Hanzo to do as he pleased.  
“Go ‘head. I ain’t shy.”  
  
Hanzo didn’t appear so keen, if anything, drawing his arms closer to himself. Snorting, McCree still kept his arm extended.  
“We’ve all lost somethin’ in this warrin’. Some of us happened t’ lose limbs. But that’s the least of our worries, yeah?”  
Now did he fold the arm back to his person, looking to the horizon.  
  
The sun was beautiful, basking the distant trees in a brilliant gold-orange. Evergreen was turned into the varying shades of beautiful sunlight, gold melting into red as the sun went lower, and lower.  
“It’ll be worth it all in th’ end. Once people can stop bein’, well… _People_.”  
  
He sighed wistfully. The cigar he had stomped out hours ago was the only thing he had on his person to smoke.  
And he doubted Hanzo would have anything on him.  
  
“Why is it you so frequently haunt me? You follow me, like a ghost… Or a lost dog.”  
Glancing back to hard, stern eyes, McCree’s usual demeanor returned in a flash.  
“’Cause you are _something_.” Attractive, intelligent, _great_ pecs--- “You’ve earned my respect.” Yeah, yeah that was probably the better route of following things.  
“And other things. But mostly the respect part.”  
  
Alright, potentially going south, but he could make up for that last comment!  
Opening his mouth, brain working twice as hard to make up for his faults, he apparently didn’t need to.  
“I would like to see your arm now.”  
  
Perking up, hoping that not all was lost, he offered his arm once again to Hanzo to observe.  
And this time, it was accepted, taken within those expert fingers. For the first time, he wished he had sensation in the arm. To feel those calloused fingertips observing the conjunction of flesh and metal, the tease of his palm against his elbow…  
A shiver rolled down his spine just at the thought of such sensations.  
If only his flesh arm was as intriguing as the one otherwise.  
  
“This is fine work. Who…?”  
“Rather not say, if you don’t mind. It’s a sensitive subject.”  
McCree looked sheepish.  
“I do not mind. As you said we… Have all lost something.” Hanzo frowned, and his hands pulled away from McCree’s arm.  
_Nearly_ did McCree sigh at the loss of contact, even if he couldn’t feel it.  
  
“May I?”  
McCree glanced to Hanzo’s legs, and one of which stretched out, inviting.  
His mind instantly flashed to ideas _other_ than simply looking over the mechanical make-up of his leg, and he swallowed, throat suddenly dry.  
  
“Any sensation?”  
“None at all. You?”  
“Same.”  
  
McCree’s hands smoothed up a calf, going to where his knee technically was. His thighs all seemed fine, more than likely scarred more than anything else. He, of course, couldn’t tell with Hanzo in his get-up.  
(He wondered the best way of removing his clothes, for they were foreign to him and something all too new to explore.)  
  
“This is some fine work,” McCree mumbled, and right before his hand would have reached Hanzo’s clothed thigh, it was seized.  
Panicking, thinking he had screwed up in some way, McCree’s eyes jerked up, an apology on his lips, the gears cranking _hard_ to save himself from this one.  
“I---er, I—I _\--!_ ”  
  
What might have come died in his throat, smothered by lips so much softer than he thought they would be. They were almost _womanly_ , not to say it was a bad thing. It suggested being well-taken care of, of being self-aware and mindful of one’s own body.  
Lips he thought would be just as tough as calloused hands and a stern exterior expressed a gentleness and caution that had surely allowed him to become the superb archer he was. He was… _Perfect_.

“Like you have noticed my staring at your arm, I’ve seen you watching me. And do not think I am so ignorant of the lecherous minds of _man_.” McCree looked dazed, in his own little wonderland. If he heard any of which Hanzo was saying, he certainly didn’t acknowledge it.  
Pausing, only to roll his eyes, Hanzo hooked his arms around McCree’s neck, dragging him in. McCree was a brilliant red, tanned skin _glowing_ as he got to rub up against that godly body.  
  
“You are lucky that I am a… _Flexible_ man. Others might have been disgusted by your approach, and I will admit, I was, initially,” Hanzo remarked, seizing McCree’s attention. Those inquisitive eyes were back on him, the glaze that had overcome them earlier melting away into intrigue.  
“You are more than merely driven by your _smaller head_. You are sensible. And you bear a good heart. I, perhaps, would not mind another training session…”  
McCree was _glowing_ , and Hanzo cleared his throat, glancing away, somehow more embarrassed by the comment of being willing to see him again than his comments straying into the sexual.  
  
“But, we have _other_ business to be attending to, before this. Yes?”  
Disappointment flashed across McCree’s face, thinking of the _serious_ definition of business, the **literal** definition.  
It was Hanzo’s sultry glance that had him realizing he meant a _very good kind of business_.  


This was not how he had expected it to go, but McCree was happy with it either way. It was the _journey_ that was the most enjoyable part, and all the little bumps and surprises along the way didn’t all have to be bad.  
And this… It wasn’t what he was _used_ to, but that wasn’t negative in the least.  
  
Feeling Hanzo’s cock pulse in his mouth, he moaned around the girth of it, feeling the tip poke and prod at the back of his throat. He had gotten to figure out Hanzo’s clothes after all, and it had come with its delicious _rewards_.  
Nose burying in well-kept pubic hair (he wasn’t clean shaven, but he was well-groomed and that sort of care had sent a pulse straight down to McCree’s groin), breathing in his scent, he was as obedient as any dog as Hanzo’s firm hand guided his dick deep into his throat.  
And when he was allowed to breathe, his mouth popped off with a _satisfying_ sound, a sound that made McCree’s trapped penis ache and throb some more.  
He could feel the dampness of his own briefs rubbing against his sensitive underside, and when guided back down, he allowed himself the simple pleasure of grinding against the ground.  
  
But he remained obedient, and did not touch himself. He did not unbuckle his belt, he didn’t shove down his trousers, he didn’t try to bury his hands deep within his precum-slick briefs to jerk himself off. While he teased the fantasy in his mind, he was all eyes on Hanzo, his entire body burning for _him_ and him alone.  
He could wait.  
He could wait.  
  
Swallowing an especially thick glob of precum, feeling drool leak into his beard, leaving trails on Hanzo’s reddened cock, with a sputtering gasp was he allowed back up.  
Purring like a kitten as his hair was stroked, a hand once gripping so firmly softening its hold to pet the abuse locks, McCree nuzzled into Hanzo’s groin, panting, waiting for the next order.  
  
“Take off the remainder of your clothes.”  
The low, silky tone was nearly enough to cum from alone, McCree wondering how in the world he managed to keep it together.  
But he pushed himself back up and reached down, tossing away his belt, shoving off leather chaps and irritating trousers.  
His shoes and spurs had long since been cast away.  
That had been a given.  
  
Thick cock pulsing, fully hardened and tapping against his naval as he shifted into a comfortable position on his knees, he fully embraced the admiring gaze of Hanzo.  
He was, after all, quite the sight.  
Who didn’t want to devour such a gorgeous looking man?  
  
“Yes, I made a good decision,” Hanzo mumbled. McCree suppressed the urge to ask if that was geared more for _himself_ or was open to response, not wanting to kill the mood.  
Maybe later on, when they were more comfortable with one another, they’d delve deeper into these things. And McCree could fully unleash the vain monster of which he was.  
  
“Come here, and allow me to properly admire you,” Hanzo hummed, and McCree crawled to him, straddling his hips, feeling the heavy cock he had previously been choking on rub against his bare ass.  
Shivering, he was drawn away from the sensation by fingers in his hair, gentle as before, and lips on his neck.  
His shoulders were already peppered with developing hickeys, but so were Hanzo’s, both of them inevitably marked by territorial teeth and wandering hands.  
Claw marks traced down McCree’s back that stung pleasantly from Hanzo’s throes of pleasure from his mouth on his cock grew to be a bit _much_ for him.  
  
“You are well-kept, for a man who appears so rugged. Is it your ego that keeps you so well-maintained?” Hanzo teased, his hands running down McCree’s back, feeling out the muscles that went taut under his touch, feeling him shiver under the sensation of calloused skin rubbing against the more sensitive parts of his flesh.  
His back curved in, providing the golden opportunity for Hanzo to cup his ass in both palms, admiring the curve of his spine, how full and plump his behind was.  
Yes.  
This was sufficient.  
  
“W-well I try m’ best,” McCree mumbled, voice slurring as he tried not to whine at the sensitive tip of his erection rubbing against the fabric of Hanzo’s top. He hadn’t taken that off. It was the one article of clothing kept on between them.  
“Mhm. I see this. And you have done a good job…” Spit-slicked fingers slipped in between McCree’s ass cheeks, feeling him tense and shift uncomfortably, relaxed by peppered kisses and lips against his own.  
  
Saliva was no proper substitute for lubrication, and _sadly_ they were without any sort of lube to speak of besides such.  
McCree knew he didn’t carry anything to imitate such, and he sincerely doubted Hanzo was the sort of individual to pack around a bottle of lube wherever he went.  
Spontaneous field-sex didn’t seem like his kind of thing.  
  
And this seemed to click in Hanzo’s mind, realizing that they didn’t have any decent means of carrying on. His hands were slipping away, going elsewhere.  
“Perhaps we shall resume _that_ aspect another time---there are other means---“  
“ _No_.”  
Visibly surprised by his insistence (probably since it was _him_ that would end up suffering here, not Hanzo), Hanzo let McCree guide his hands back.  
  
“Y’think I haven’t done it _dry_ before? ‘Sides, I slobbered you up good ‘nough that it probably wont bleed too much.”  
Hanzo didn’t look enthralled at the word ‘bleed’, especially in the context given.  
  
“I’m achin’ for you, babe,” McCree purred, rocking himself against Hanzo’s fingers, making a point of grinding his ass down onto his dick.  
He _knew_ that was some good shit (it was HIS ass, after all), and Hanzo’s reluctant look of pleasure gave it all away.  
“If I don’t like it, if it hurts too bad, I’ll say it. I trust you’d stop in a heartbeat.”  
  
McCree reached back, taking Hanzo’s hand and bringing it to his lips. Locking gazes with him, his mouth parted, suckling on a fingertip. He went from one to the next, gradually moving down each finger, sucking down to the first joint, and then to the knuckles.  
Tongue swirling in between each digit, thoroughly soaking them in saliva and displaying the same talents that had lavished Hanzo’s member, he finished off with a gentle nibble to his index.  
His ass waggled invitingly, McCree’s teeth flashing in a grin.  
  
“Well? I ain’t getting’ any _looser_.”  
  
His sharp-toothed grin faded into a moan when a finger slipped in, not anticipating his invitation to be accepted so _readily_.  
He’d admit, it’d been _quite_ some time since he had been the one taking a dick up his ass, and the sensation of a finger probing his warm innards was something unfamiliar.  
Shuddering, he leaned heavily against Hanzo, and it was allowed, Hanzo propping himself up more so that he could curl an arm around McCree and further encourage him to brace his weight against him.  
His saliva wasn’t nearly as good as lube, but it was sufficient, fingers made further slick by McCree’s insides as one digit became two, and eventually, three.  
  
“Y-yer sure takin’ yer sweet time,” McCree huffed against Hanzo’s shoulder, back arching when the other pushed in to the knuckle, whining without shame at the sensation.  
“Do you wish to be torn open?”  
The question went unanswered.  
  
Hanzo did his best to ignore the flushed, pleasure-sweetened expression on McCree’s face, for despite his frustration and impatience, he certainly wasn’t having a bad time.  
If he began to look, he knew he’d be too busy admiring such a face and slow down even more.  
  
“How are you feeling?”  
“F… fine.” McCree crooned, hissing low as Hanzo found that sweet spot and pushed hard against his fingers, wriggling his ass.  
“Put it in. ‘m ready to not be walkin’ for the next couple o’ days---oh, did I forget to mention you’re carrying me back home?”  
Grinning against Hanzo’s warm neck, he laughed at the other’s derisive snort, laughter turning into a soft gasp as those three digits were removed and he was suddenly very empty.  
And he was suddenly _so very full_ and he yelped from the pain and shock, the memory of that thick girth in his mouth now transferring to his aching ass.  
  
Fingernails dug in painfully tight into Hanzo’s shoulder, a sort of payback for the biting, stinging pain of his swollen cock plunging into him.  
It _hurt_ , it hurt, it hurt, but he had asked for it, so he grit his teeth and endured. It would feel better. Once he relaxed some and got used to the sensation, let it make room for other feelings, it wouldn’t feel so bad.  
Exhaling, harsh and loud, his face buried into Hanzo’s neck, his dick was already softening. Sadly, he wasn’t really the sort to get off on this kind of pain.  
  
“We can still---“  
“ _Move_.”  
He hadn’t seen Hanzo’s look of distraught, hadn’t seen beyond his own fog of pain to notice that the samurai had actually been concerned by his pained looks and behavior. He probably felt bad.  
It wasn’t like he had been trying to rip him in half.  
  
Feeling him still not moving, McCree took it upon himself to show that he was fine enough to make it work.  
Slowly, his hips began to rock, teeth biting into his lip as he sunk lower down. _Christ_ , he wasn’t even all the way in?  
He was bigger than he remembered.  
But he was thankful for the spit and precum, and for Hanzo loosening him up. By some miracle of God he wasn’t torn or bleeding, just aching bad and needing _something_ to get his dick back up.  
  
Sighing, rolling his hips, he twitched and tensed up when gentle hands went firm on his hips, and shoved him back down.  
A sputtering gasp of pain, an involuntary jerk away, and then he was suddenly seeing _stars_.  
Like some kind of _magic_ , his prostate was found within seconds, and the next thrust into his body hit it dead-on.  
Crumpling against him, mind mush and body fighting with itself between the sensations of pain and pleasure, his initial plans of riding Hanzo until the man was _brainless_ flipped on him.  
  
Like he had forgotten the sensation of a cock deep inside of him, he had forgotten the _pleasure_ it brought. It was different than fucking someone, a different sort of pleasure when it came to the manipulation of his insides and the pressure against his prostate.  
To say the least, it didn’t take long for him to get rock-hard again, clutching onto Hanzo, teeth digging into his lower lip.  
He sure did hope that this field wasn’t usually occupied by anyone else but Hanzo.  
It would be humiliating for his sexual escapades (at least, in this case where he was moaning like a whore and making just as much noise) to get out there.  
  
“ _Haaaanzo_ \---“ he drawled, the pleasured utterance of the other’s name morphing into a yelp as he was flipped, and slammed onto his back.  
Knees pressed against his shoulders as he was thrust into _hard_ , a part of his mind wondering how long it would take before he could walk properly again while the rest melted into pleasured mush.  
  
Dick slapping against his abdomen with every hard thrust back into his pliable body, feeling the coil draw tighter and tighter, McCree reached down to jerk himself off.  
Maybe, if he timed it well enough, he and Hanzo would cum at the same time.  
_Wouldn’t that be cool?_  
  
Warm fingers brushing against the underside, hissing as his thumb coursed over sensitive veins, he was brutally disappointed when Hanzo pushed his hand away before he could get a good grip.  
His disappointment evaporated when it was one of Hanzo’s hands that replaced it, palm swallowing up his girth, using precum to pump him with as he found rhythm in between stroking McCree and pounding into him.  
And the coil drew tighter and tighter and tighter, and with a glance upward, McCree could vaguely register through the thick fog of pleasure Hanzo was close, too.  
  
Right before he felt he was about to _explode_ , he reached out, hooking his fingers behind Hanzo’s neck and dragging him down.  
The only resistance he felt was from their own awkward positioning, remedied by McCree’s legs hooking around Hanzo’s waist, drawing him in deeper.  
  
That simple move ruined the rhythm, sent everything stuttering into sporadic, jerky movements. He could feel Hanzo choke against his lips as he hit orgasmic bliss, the movement of his hips jerkish and irregular as he left McCree’s innards slick with his seed.  
  
McCree was thankful for his last-second decision, what would have been a loud cry was stifled into Hanzo’s plush lips, McCree dragging him even closer and further into his body as he came.  
Hips involuntarily jerked as spurts of cum shot out over his stomach, thick white dripping down his pecs as the spasms finally melted into post-coital _bliss_.  
Relaxing, thumping back down onto the grass that had been smashed down by their sex, McCree groaned as he stretched out.  
His legs dropped away from Hanzo, but remained propped up, just so that he still may enjoy the sensation of the samurai riding out his orgasm, purring at the sensation of still being so full.  
  
The sensation of being _emptied_ wasn’t nearly as pleasant, pleasure for the moment numbing the inevitable pain as Hanzo’s softened penis left him.  
He shivered at the feel of his cum dripping down his thigh and out of him, a mess he’d have to clean up later.  
  
“An’ ‘ere I thought you were just a good marksman. Looks like y’got more under yer belt.”  
Hanzo was flushed, but McCree couldn’t tell if it was from their hard sex or from his comment.  
Letting his legs flop fully onto the ground, he groaned again, stretching some more.  
  
“I ain’t gonna be able to _walk_ for awhile, but, I’ll deal. It’ll be okay.”  
“I offer my apologies---“  
“ _’Ey_ , none of that, pretty boy.”  
  
McCree locked eyes with Hanzo, who was presumably trying to find something to wipe them both clean with before they redressed.  
Hanzo paused to look back, met by a grin that slowly curled the corners of McCree’s mouth.  
  
“’Cause you can repay me by takin’ me to yer place and cleanin’ me up.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! <3  
> i'm actually not a player of overwatch, but i love the characters and became invested in their individual stories.
> 
> ... and the potential for bara smut.
> 
> feel free to leave comments on what you thought or ideas for potential, future works!


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